


Tick-Tock Lover

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-12
Updated: 2008-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:53:21
Rating: ExplicitGeneral Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Time, and the havoc it wreaks





	Tick-Tock Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Created for the Changing Seasons Exchange for almond_joyz
> 
> http://r-becca.livejournal.com/579018.html?style=mine

 

The apartment was still and silent. Things were kept mostly tidy. A beige sofa sat facing a wooden coffee table that was straining under stacks of heavy volumes and novels about vampires, ghouls, boggarts, and all sorts of other dark and sinister creatures. Across from this was a small but clean kitchenette with smooth wooden counters and cupboards that matched the little table pressed up against the wall with two padded chairs tucked under it. A soft rug was splayed out in the sitting area and the rest of the room was covered in humble but unblemished hardwood. The shades that clothed the window above the sofa were left hanging open, allowing a bit of moonlight to light up the room. A clock ticked loudly from its place above the table. 

_Tick tock, tick tock_ , it taunted the night, reminding it that eventually the sun will rise. 

A plain mirror hung above an armchair that matched the sofa. A few pillows were scattered around the sofa and the armchair, and the sink had a few dishes in it, but otherwise there was nothing in particular in the sitting room. 

 

Suddenly, a loud pop resounded against the dense silence, interrupting the steady beat of the clock. Dust rained down onto the floor and rug, but the figure that was suddenly in the center of the room didn’t seem to mind. Cloaked in shadows and dark robes, he coughed a little before glancing at himself in the mirror. His face was completely covered in dust, dirt, and emerging bruises. His bottom lip was swollen and he could still taste a little blood on it. A drop of blood was rolling its way down from a cut on his forehead, over his cheek, and toward his chin, almost like a crimson tear. The man quickly smudged it off and fixed his glasses, which lay askew on the bridge of his nose. Purple bags stood out prominently under his red eyes. Above eyebrows coated in dried sweat a pink lighting bolt-shaped scar zigzagged across his forehead. Several days worth of stubble bristled from his face. Lastly, the moonlight was giving him a ghostly, emaciated appearance. He looked like he was just tortured and beaten. Every muscle in his body ached or throbbed and his legs nearly shook under him. His eyelids stung with the need for sleep. His stomach rumbled but to him, hunger was just a dinghy floating in a sea of exhaustion, so he ignored it. 

 

The man cast off his dusky cloak, showering the floor and armchair in more filth. He threw the article over the back of one of the dining chairs and inched around the coffee table, toward the sofa. 

 

Finally, his worn out body sunk into the soft cushions and the world immediately started to fade, the already dim room fading to black behind his heavy eyelids. Oh what peace greeted him on the insides of his eyelids. Warmth enveloped him as all reality escaped him, even his body. All that was left was his core, floating in a sky of absolutely nothing, and it was utter bliss…

 

___

 

 

_Crash!_ Something heavy and metal hit the floor, shattering Harry’s dreamless nothingness, and he intuitively sat straight up and pulled his wand out defensively, scanning the sitting room for the intruder with sleep-sticky eyes. It was hard to see through the sudden brightness, as the happy sunshine streaming through the window seemed bent on blinding him. His head whirled in protest, begging for even a little more sleep. 

 

A petite redhead stood in the middle of his kitchen, frozen and with a guilty expression on her face. 

 

“Sorry,” she apologized in a whisper as she picked up the heavy frying pan she’d dropped.

 

Harry rubbed his eyes and stretched. “What time is it?”

 

Ginny checked her wristwatch. “Eleven thirty.”

 

Harry stretched his arms out over his head. The dried dirt and mud that were still caked onto his skin cracked with the movement and it was only then that he remembered that he still hadn’t showered. He yawned loudly.

 

“What are you making?”

 

Ginny rummaged through a big brown paper shopping bag full of groceries, listing off each item as she placed it onto the counter. “Eggs, coffee, bacon, milk, bread, butter, and some fruit.”

 

“You didn’t have too,” Harry said as he smiled appreciatively. 

 

“No, I didn’t, but I knew you wouldn’t go get this stuff on your own, and sure enough, you only have a few Butterbeers and a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey.”

 

Harry looked down at the loaf of bread on the counter and his stomach rumbled loudly. “Erm, I don’t suppose you could maybe…”

 

“Yes, yes just go get in the shower; you look like hell and you smell worse,” Ginny said distractedly as she put the skillet on the stove and lit the fire.

 

Harry stood in his somewhat cramped shower, reveling in the way the hot water soothed his burning muscles and washed the layers of filth and sweat from his skin and hair. Steam billowed out of the tiny cubicle and his skin was quickly going from dusty gray to irritated red under the nearly boiling continual stream of life-supporting fluid. His fingers ran over his arms, enjoying the feeling of clean flesh. He closed his eyes and let the water plaster down his hair and run all the grime out of it. This was as good as sleep, almost better, and to top it all off there would be an actual home-cooked meal waiting when he got out of the shower.

 

____

 

“So, I take it your first week was grueling,” Ginny said as she sat opposite Harry at his table and watched him stuff his mouth unceremoniously with fried eggs. 

 

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s definitely worse than expected,” he mumbled after a hurried swallow. 

 

Ginny nodded. “It’ll get better.” 

 

Harry wondered how she knew that but decided not to question her, so he simply took another bite of the eggs. 

 

Ginny watched Harry eat. He still had faint, bluish circles under his eyes and a small cut above his left eye, but aside from that he didn’t look too terrible, and was quickly regaining his color from the food. His damp hair was scattered on top of his head in jet-black chunks and Ginny had to admit she found it quite sexy. 

 

She smiled reassuringly at him. “Ron should be getting back soon, shouldn’t he?”

 

He shrugged again. “I think so.”

 

Ginny nodded and bit her lip.

_Tick tock, tick tock._

The clock ticked impatiently over them. Ginny looked at Harry, hoping he wouldn’t notice her staring. She remembered the way he used to kiss her under the shady willow trees near the lake at Hogwarts. He would cup her jaw in his hand and she used to love the way his skin felt rough but his touch was gentle. He would kiss her like he would never kiss anybody ever again, and Ginny would wonder if he had to try in order to give that impression. 

 

At first, she felt a little smothered, a little babied, by all the softness he showed her. She didn’t need another mother in her life, especially not in the one place where she could escape her mawkish mother. But then she began to melt into his affections. She started to look forward to being coddled, because the feeling was completely un-motherly. The emotions they shared came from an entirely different place, and that made all the difference. But that was then, and time had passed since then. 

_Tick tock_ , the depressing reminder drew Ginny’s attention back to the present. 

 

She looked into Harry’s eyes. He was tired, and the eyes showed it. But that wasn’t the only thing that had changed about them. He had hardened somehow, as a person. Sure, he was still capable of softer emotions, but had dug them under the surface, desperate to protect himself. 

 

The fork chimed against the plate and Ginny realized he was finished.

 

“Still hungry? I can make more,” she offered, then chastised herself for sounding too eager.

 

“No, I’m all right.”

 

_Tick tock_. His hair was dry. 

 

“Harry, what happened to us?” 

 

Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise at her own words. She’d been thinking them for months, but didn’t dare say them, and now they finally spilled from her like the last drop of water in a filled cup.

 

Harry stared at her blankly, those two emeralds beneath the famous scar glistening in surprise. He scratched his head.

 

“I don’t know…” He got up and carried his plate to the sink, clearly uncomfortable. 

 

Ginny didn’t know whether to drop the subject, but decided that the wound was already opened, and there was no use putting stitches on it now. Had he always been so brisk? _Tick tock_ time has changed him and something seemed to drop in her chest. She got up and touched his back lightly. 

 

He jumped at the contact, nearly dropping the plate he was washing, and then goosebumps rose along his arms. 

 

_Talk to me,_ she wanted to say, _open up. Say something, don’t brush me off like this_ , but now, the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she ran her hand down the length of his spine. She could tell that the touch was comforting to him, even though he didn’t seem to reciprocate any feeling. 

 

The water turned off and the dish was placed on the counter to dry. Harry wiped his hands off slowly and put the dishrag down. The ticking of the clock seemed extraordinarily loud, like mysterious bangs in the middle of the night. Harry paused, as though deciding whether to turn toward Ginny or walk away.

 

Finally, though, Ginny’s heart leapt in her chest when Harry turned to face her. He ran his hands gently up her arms and cupped her chin, just that same way as he did under the willow tree, only now Ginny noticed his hands were rougher.

 

“Ginny,” he mouthed.

 

Ginny smiled. 

 

They kissed. A chaste kiss, caring and happy. Ginny touched Harry’s freshly-shaved cheek. Now, it was almost as smooth as it had been when he was sixteen, before the incessant tick-tocking drove a wedge between them. 

 

Several minutes passed and Ginny’s hand’s roamed down Harry’s back. 

 

He stiffened and broke away from her. “I’m sorry.” He walked away and sat on the couch.

 

“What?” she asked softly, barely concealing her pain.

 

“Gin, I have too much on my plate right now. I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

 

Ginny nodded, a lump the size of a snitch in her throat. Why did she always get left behind for something more important? “Sure,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him. She quickly grabbed her cloak and left. 

 

Harry stared down at the coffee table, at the paper he had to finish for Monday. He had never noticed that his clock was so loud. 

 

He thought about Ginny’s hair; the way if flowed over her like copper silk, the way it smelled so faintly of citrus, how soft it was…how easy it would be to tangle his hand in it… _tick tock_ , time had run out; he missed that train. _Fuck._

 

____

 

Ginny sat on her bed, in her room in the flat she shared with Demelza Robins, a fellow Harpy. She didn’t know what was worse, being “friends” with Harry or being in this limbo they were in now. The problem with their friendship was that Ginny felt like it was a farce, an excuse, an intermission in the play of their romance. But now, they were in no man’s land, like the actors had gone on strike. 

 

Surprisingly, Ginny wasn’t all that upset. She was a little hurt, but wasn’t at the point of tears. In fact, some part of her was just happy to have gotten some of that tension out of the way. Besides, now she knew that he wanted her back, but just thought it wasn’t the right time. What she didn’t know, however, was where to go from where she was. Approaching Harry again could risk further rejection, but leaving him alone could eliminate any hope left. 

 

_____

 

 

_____

 

“Ginny!” Demelza’s voice called from the direction of the front door.

 

“What!” Ginny called back. 

 

“Someone here to see you!”

 

Ginny wasn’t especially in the mood for visitors. In fact, she felt irritable and ready to go off at anyone. But what could she do if whoever it was already took to liberty of showing up unannounced? “Fine! Just a sec!” 

 

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and went out of her room. And there he was. First she noticed the jet black hair and then the emerald eyes. Then the rest of his features came into focus. She looked at him but couldn’t think of anything to say.

 

“You hungry?” It was amazing how many of her mother’s traits she’d inherited. 

 

Harry chuckled. “No, I’m alright. You left enough food at my house to last a good decade.”

 

Now it was Ginny’s turn to laugh. Any awkwardness that was between them had faded rapidly.

 

“Ginny, I’m sorry-” Harry started seriously. 

 

Ginny looked down. “Me too,” she interrupted.

 

“No, I’m sorry about what I…what I’d said. I just…” His voice faded out and he stared out the window. 

 

“Harry, what are you saying?”

 

“I’m trying to ask…if I was to…to kiss you again, would you push me away?”

 

Ginny’s heart leapt in her chest. She wanted to scream a thousand no’s but bit her tongue. She hesitated. She wouldn’t push him away, but that didn’t mean she completely forgave him. 

 

“No, I probably wouldn’t.” 

 

And there it was again, the feel of his lips, the feeling of safety and freefall all at once. 

 

His arms wrapped around her harshly, so unlike the way he would cup her jaw. He was ravenous, desperate, kissing her neck, her mouth, her jaw, and Ginny’s knees almost buckled from the waves of long-awaited satisfaction coursing through her more rapidly than the blood in her veins. 

 

“Ginny,” he nearly growled into her ear.

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“Can we go to your room?”

 

Everything was going so fast Ginny’s head was about to whirl. She needed time, she needed to figure out what was happening, but still she nodded her head. Her feet left the floor and she felt her legs wrap around his waist. 

 

Her bed felt soft and his body felt hard, and being sandwiched between the two was strange. Harry’s body was so warm and smooth, like a stone in the afternoon sun. Copper light from the sun slanted through her body, giving the two of them an angelic glow atop the bed. 

 

It felt so good, good enough to never wish for anything else in the world, only this bed and his body and those delicious sensations that sent her moaning and her head digging into the pillow and her back arching. Toes curled, fingers grasped flesh, and animal noises resounded against the walls.

 

And then the whole situation collapsed like a house of cards and Ginny was fading, falling, floating, shaking, screaming, exploding. Shock waves ran through her like electricity, and then somebody shut the lights out and sleep caught her from the fall of orgasm. 

 

_____

 

“Ginny? Ginny?” 

 

A hand was nudging her and a comforting voice was close to her ear. The dead of night created a dark, silent, slightly dangerous atmosphere as Ginny stirred out of her deep sleep.

 

“Wha-?” she mumbled without opening her eyes. 

 

“Ginny, I’m so sorry. I have a paper due tomorrow morning. I have to go. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

 

Ginny mumbled an unintelligible syllable.

 

Harry kissed her cheek lovingly and somewhere in the part of her brain that wasn’t drenched in sleep she felt the mattress shift as he got up. 

 

_____

 

_Harry,_

 

_Last night was incredible. I’m so sorry you had to leave. Contact me when you get home I can’t wait to see you again._

 

_Love,_

_Ginny_

 

_Harry,_

 

_It’s Ginny. I missed you for breakfast. I’m glad you came yesterday. I have the flat to myself tonight…_

 

_-Ginny_

 

Too eager. Everything was too eager. But oh, how she wanted to see him again. He was busy, she understood that. Auror training was notoriously brutal, both academically and physically. But she didn’t really know where they were at. Was it a one-time fuck with a friend or a rekindling of their flame? 

 

The actors had abruptly walked off stage and the audience was getting restless waiting for the show to go on.

 

___

 

_After firing the first successful Exuro Cruor, or, more commonly, Burnt Blood, curse, Francesco DeLantipis began working on a cure for lycanthropy. After months in his alchemy lab, however, he only managed to turn a few unfortunate peasants into lycanthropes and disfigured a handful of Muggles…_

 

Harry threw his quill down. His hand ached and his head was throbbing. This was possibly the stupidest paper he was ever assigned: ten roles of parchment on some sadistic, half-witted alchemist’s achievements. He could think of nothing less relevant to becoming an Auror. Even Potions lessons with Snape would be more productive than this. 

 

He thought about Ginny. About the way her fingers curled into his flesh when she was about to lose herself completely, about the smattering of freckles on each of her shoulders, and the tiny whimpers she gave out subconsciously when he kissed her neck. 

 

_Tick-tock_.

He felt restless, as though there was something more important he should be doing. He wanted to go and kiss the hell out of Ginny, but had enough common sense to know that he had to finish. 

 

But where would this take them? Harry knew very well he simply didn’t have the time to keep up a relationship. The best Ginny would be able to hope for is that he would have enough energy for occasional sex, and he wanted to give her more. His head throbbed. He shouldn’t have come to her house. But he was ready to explode. He _needed_ her. But now he knew what she would be expecting, and rightfully so. 

 

He wanted to be more than a _tick-tock_ lover for her. He wanted to be there for her. He wanted to love her outside of the bedroom. He wanted to wake up next to her. But _tick tock_ time was of the essence, and there just weren’t enough tick-tocks in a day, and he was too ashamed to tell her again.

 

Besides, he wasn’t sure just how to be anything else. Though he hated to admit it, constantly losing those dearest to him had built a wall up around his heart. Now, he could endure long hours – or even days – of training in the forests, or writing countless essays, but was worried that if greeted with a romantic possibility – no matter how much he would want it – he would botch it up. 

 

_DeLantipis also had a fascination with the human heart. He was very well known for his controversial experiments on unwilling Muggles, most of which proved to be completely useless…_

____

 

Ginny dipped her fingertips into the very edges of the flame of a candle in the sitting room, gazing into the flickering light that cast constantly-moving shadows across her face. Now, she truly was upset. She was lonely, and hated herself for it. She wished she could understand, to not care that half her bed was cold in the morning, but she felt hollow and unloved. And the worst part was that she couldn’t blame Harry because she knew he was a good man that didn’t mean her any harm. He’d even given her up in order to avoid harming her. She wanted him close to her but didn’t dare Apparate into his apartment. 

 

_____

 

** Three Months Later  **

****

“Ginny! Ginny!” Harry hurried through the corridors of the Burrow, brimming with excitement.

 

A door opened ahead of him. “Harry? What’re you doing here?” Ginny looked confused, but otherwise wore no positive or negative expression on her face. 

 

As soon as Harry saw her again, he rushed to gather her in his arms. She didn’t melt quite like he wanted her too, but did seem pleased to see him.

 

“I’ve got a week off!”

 

“That’s wonderful.” Ginny smiled but inwardly felt dried up. She wanted to be Harry’s girlfriend for more than a week. 

 

“Come on, I’ll take you out somewhere,” he said as he tugged at her hand. 

 

“Harry, I’d love to, but, how about just as friends?” She pulled her hand away from his. 

 

Harry’s face fell and he frowned. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand why she didn’t want to rush into things again. “All right. I understand.”

 

Ginny smiled warmly, the kind of smile that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley. “Thanks, Harry.” 

 

____

 

The restaurant was small and quant. The food tasted homemade and a potion of the customer’s choice was included with dessert. 

 

“How have you been?”

 

“Training is absolutely crazy. I’m just juggling field training and classroom lessons. It’s getting a little better, I suppose. God, I just can’t wait until June; I’ll finally be finished, and I hear next year isn’t as bad.” Harry was surprised with how much more he was willing to share with Ginny now. 

 

“It’s not too long now…”

 

Harry loved how sincere and kind she could sound when trying to console him.

 

“Five months,” he replied half-mournfully, half-optimistically. 

 

Ginny took a sip of her wine. She was thankful there were no clocks at the restaurant. 

 

“Harry,” she finally said softly, looking down into the blood-red liquid.

 

“Mm?” he replied before swallowing a bit of food.

 

“Are we just going to pretend that several weeks ago never happened?”

 

Harry sighed. What could he say? The sex was fantastic but the repercussions nearly outweighed the benefits. “I don’t know. I mean, of course it happened. I just, I don’t know if we could get too serious right now.”

 

“But _why_ , Harry? I’m sure we could find some time. And I’ll understand if you can’t be around me all the time.” Her eyes pleaded with him and Harry was finding it hard to say no.

 

“Ginny, it’s not just that. It’s just that…right now, it's all I know, Ginny. It's easy for me and...and romance is hard.”

 

Ginny looked at him for what seemed like a long time. Her pupils were dilated in the soft candlelight and her eyes were boring into his to the point where he felt uncomfortable, not that he didn’t feel uncomfortable talking about romance to begin with. 

 

“Bullshit,” Ginny finally stated.

 

Harry had to admit he felt some level of shock. “Er…what?”

 

“That’s complete bull. I’m not asking for romance. I’m asking you to just…be human.”

 

“Ginny…do you really not get it?” He had to admit he was disappointed that she didn’t smile and understand.

 

Ginny looked at him again. “Not especially.” The hard quality of her voice was receding and she sounded much kinder now. 

 

“I can’t quite talk about it, but it just isn’t the right time.”

 

“Harry, please don’t take offence at this, but I’m going to ask you to take me home now.”

 

_____

 

Ginny had to admit, being friends with Harry wasn’t as hard as she would have imagined. He was, after all, a very good and loyal friend. He was caring, and though not a terribly attentive listener he could at least remain quiet while Ginny ranted about her difficulties. They had fallen into a routine: Ginny would wake Harry up every morning, usually with a smack from a pillow, and make some sort of breakfast and coffee. Then he would go off to training and she to Quidditch practice with the Harpies. Their desire for each other was still there, but subdued slightly, bandaged temporarily for the sake of convenience. Ginny didn’t know exactly where the relationship was going and preferred not to think about it. She wasn’t ecstatic, but she was happy, and her business with the Harpies helped to partially fill the gap between ecstatic and happy. 

 

Several months went by smoothly, without any more wayward sexual encounters. Things were somewhat bland but otherwise satisfactory. In fact, one would almost believe there was absolutely nothing but friendship between them if it weren’t for the sudden flashes of connection, the bursts of energy that transpired between them ever so often.

 

It would happen while they were eating and Ginny’s knuckles would graze the back of Harry’s hand, or when Harry would nearly trip over Ginny when trying to squeeze between his coffee table and sofa, or even when Demelza would walk in as they were sitting and chatting and give them knowing glances.

 

These moments usually happened the same way; they would look at each other and for a few seconds wonder if this time, something more will happen. They would study each other’s eyes closely before finally a hurried apology would be uttered followed by muttered acceptances or chuckles. 

 

It was a beautiful Sunday. Rain fell in heavy, sporadic sheets, each drop falling with the force of a bullet. The flow of the rain was so heavy that it was nearly impossible to see two feet ahead and it created a bland white atmosphere that make it look like milk was falling from the sky. Some would find it depressing, and indeed the world did seem rather lifeless and tasteless, but it was putting the twosome into a nostalgic mood, filling the gray afternoon with colorful memories.

 

“Do you remember that time, the day after the Quidditch World Cup, when Charlie let us have the remainder of the Firewhiskey he never finished with his friends?”

 

Harry chuckled. He stared out the window, allowing the blankness outside to act as a canvas on which to paint the memory. “Sure. Do you _ever_ forget the first time you get drunk?”

 

“Well, it depends on how drunk you’ve gotten.”

 

“Point taken.”

 

A moment of silence passed, as though in mourning for the time that got sucked away by the vortex of the loud tick-tocking somewhere above their heads.

 

“Charlie was always so relaxed about things like that. He was the one that gave Fred and George their first taste of alcohol, too. Percy was naturally furious.” Ginny was now staring out the window as well, coating each raindrop in the dazzle of shimmering memories, illuminating the weather in her own way.

 

Another moment of silence. _Tick tock_. The rain marched dutifully against the window. 

_Tick tock, beat beat._

Harry chuckled. “Remember when I was in Fifth Year, and we helped Fred and George plant dungbombs in Umbrage’s office?”

 

“Ah, yes. Definitely .”

 

They sat for a moment, reliving the moments, before bursting out in more chuckles. 

 

“Remember the first time we kissed?” Ginny was looking down into her lap now, speaking softly, the words barely anything more than an extension of her soft lips.

 

“First kiss I ever enjoyed.” Harry was looking down into his own lap as well.

 

Ginny licked her lips. “Me too.”

 

The rain lessened slightly into a steady pitter-patter. 

 

“Ginny, I miss you.”

 

Ginny smiled. “I’m right here,” she taunted softly.

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“Yeah. But what do you propose, exactly?”

 

Both of them were filled with a fluttering feeling in their stomachs, knowing how much rested on the next statement.

 

“I don’t know. I want to be with you, Ginny. I just…I feel like I can’t right now. It wouldn’t be right. I’m always busy, so you’d always be alone.”

 

“I’m not made of glass, Harry. I can handle myself even when you’re busy. But I can’t handle pretending to be friends with you.”

 

“All right. Then we’ll give it a shot.”

 

They looked at each other for a moment as though to watch the news sink into each other’s eyes. 

 

Ginny smiled. 

 

Harry smiled back. He sat up straighter and took her warm hand in his. Their hands swayed back and forth lazily, in perfect discord with the clock.

 

Ginny sat up, her face inches from his.

 

Harry leaned in a little closer, almost touching the tip of Ginny’s nose with his own.

 

Finally, Ginny allowed herself to melt into Harry. His arms wound around her waist and hers slithered up his chest and over his shoulders. The kiss was slow, sensual, as though built specifically so that every moment, every touch, every new angle would be engraved into memory. 

 

Their lips moved in harmony, taking hints from one another about how to tilt, how to move, and where to open and close. Their tongues met slowly, touching gently, respectfully.

 

Harry’s hands trailed down to Ginny’s hips and grasped at the flesh there tenderly. 

 

Ginny’s small hands roamed back over his shoulders and down his chest. She moved closer so they were pressed right against one another. 

 

Harry could feel Ginny’s warm breath on his lips as she broke away to look into his eyes. 

She licked her lips enticingly. 

 

Harry was caught between a desire to pause the moment, to retain the subtle heat radiating from her and the powerful look in her eyes, and an instinct to pull her even closer and kiss everything she had out of her. 

 

She blinked, pulling heavy black curtains over bright brown eyes. 

 

“I want you so much right now,” Harry murmured, unable to contain the leaping feeling in his heart any longer. 

 

Ginny’s mouth curled into a twisted smile. “I know.”

 

They started kissing again, the passion a little more visible now. Ginny caught onto Harry’s shirt and peeled it off him, allowing it to land where it may somewhere to the side. 

 

Harry turned his attention to the buttons on Ginny’s shirt. He undid the third button before Ginny pulled back, resting her back against the armrest of the couch. She bit her lip and turned her eyes up at him. Slowly, each button came out of its assigned hole. With each freed piece of plastic, more skin was revealed, a sort of upside-down V that grew wider with each button, coming dangerously close to her bra. 

 

With nimble fingers, Ginny undid the shirt until it was only held together by a single button that was placed all too conveniently right between her breasts. She swiveled side to side a little, just to entice Harry.

 

Harry wanted to rip the delicate little blouse off Ginny’s frame. He wanted to hear the material pop and rip beneath his hands. He was willing to go to any length, summon any amount of strength, to get her to take it off.

 

The button came undone so quickly that Harry barely noticed the movement. Suddenly, the shirt had been thrown over her shoulders and Ginny was left in a simple pink bra. Again, the idea of tearing the garment aside came to mind, and Harry had to restrain himself from acting on the tingling sensation in his fingers that begged for movement. 

 

Ginny reached behind herself and undid the clasp of the rosy bra, letting it fall to her elbows, revealing two pale globes of flesh peaked by pointed pink nipples surrounded by smooth, light areolas. Ginny grinned wickedly at the entranced look on Harry’s face. 

 

“Ginny,” he whispered, as though to reassure himself that she was really there. 

 

“What?” she whispered back teasingly. 

 

“I’ve missed you.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He leaned forward again, catching her lips with his. Feeling Harry’s hare chest hover above hers, Ginny couldn’t believe that she had managed even a single night without that warmth, without the simple option of reaching out to touch him. 

 

His lips moved slowly from her mouth to her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck and into the dip between her collarbones. Heat surrounded Ginny. It was the heat of arousal, of the tingling between her legs. It was Harry’s heat clashing with hers. But deeper down inside, there was the heat of _love_. She _loved_ him. She could feel it somewhere between her ribs. It almost ached, but there was no disguising the warmth, the push, the pure ecstasy of real love.

 

Harry’s lips made sloppy, wet kisses somewhere under her ear in that familiar way that made Ginny shift anxiously. His hands ran over her breasts, her stomach, and her sides, before finally resting at the waistband of her sweatpants. Ginny raised her hips to allow the pants to slip down over her rounded buttocks, along with her minimalist panties. 

 

Her hands roamed Harry’s back, running along every lean, protruding muscle her fingers would skim. It was so breathtaking, so unbelievable, to actually have him _there_. Ginny felt as though she had been holding her breath all these months, and now she could finally really relax. Her hands made quick work of the button and fly of his jeans, which were also tugged down as low as possible without them having to get up. 

 

Rushed hands made slow, loving strokes, each enjoying the feel of the other’s touch. Ginny moaned slightly under her lover, reveling in the combined feeling of his mouth on her neck and his hand between her thighs. Sparks of pleasure started shooting out of her, accelerated by ragged panting and heady moans. 

 

Finally, Harry broke away from her, leaving Ginny feeling empty and unfulfilled for a few moments. He kneeled and took off his pants and boxers, and Ginny took the opportunity to look over Harry with hungry eyes. Harry always had a lean build, but Auror training had thickened his muscles and made them protrude along his arms, up to his shoulders, down his chest into defined abs, and running down his legs. His hair reminded Ginny of a picture she’d seem of Harry’s father, and how messy yet sexy the jet-black streaks looked piled on top of his head. His green eyes bore into hers and Ginny felt like she was fifteen and being kissed by Harry for the first time, full of eager anticipation and butterflies in her stomach. 

 

His thumbs hooked under his jeans and pushed down. Harry’s member stood proudly erect and another flush of heat and excitement undulated through Ginny. Heat prickled over her skin, the rush of excited anticipation, like the morning of a long-awaited birthday. 

 

Harry left his own clothing on the floor, and then turned his attention to Ginny. She felt his fingers curl over the edge of her sweatpants and nearly shivered. Slowly, they made their descent, over her firm thighs and strong calves, joining Harry’s discarded pants. Then he climbed back on top of her and Ginny was happy to have his heat and weight back over her.

 

“You ready?” he whispered, looking directly into her eyes.

 

Ginny nodded slowly.

 

The last time they had made love, it was quick, and all the sensations of sex barely even registered. Now, Ginny could feel every muscle that stretched to accommodate him. She could feel his hardened length pushing its way through her, gently. Harry’s face was hovering just above hers, and the tips of their noses touched. They looked into each other’s eyes, the slow, grinding motions of Harry’s body reflected in the softness of his eyes. He started moving slowly, pushing into her smoothly to let her get accustomed to the feeling, to let it start feeling good.

 

It didn’t last though, the gentleness that is. They were only human, and human emotions tend to give way to human instincts. The first few strokes were calm, tender, loving. But then the both of them felt the tide of pleasure rising and had no choice but to ride the current, wherever it may take them. 

 

The pace quickened, their climb intensified. Everything from their movements to their breathing was done in unison. Ginny held Harry close, as though this might be the last time they ever have this kind of joy. Meanwhile, Harry’s elbows were planted to either of Ginny’s sides, and his hands swept under her shoulders, grasping them for leverage. 

 

Small grunts started to fill the heady, sex-filled air, followed by Ginny’s low moaning. It felt so good. Better, even, than the last time. They were separated, but for the moment could act as one. 

 

Even still things got heavier, and they started going faster. Except for their eye contact, all attempts at softness were abandoned, left behind in favor of a much cruder need. Lust filled the air as Ginny’s moans grew louder. She was close. So close. She could feel it. Her panting and moaning had gotten uninhibited, thrown about the room with reckless abandon. She held onto Harry as tightly as possible, as though her very survival depended on it. Her legs spread and wrapped around his waist. 

 

“Harry…please.” The pleasure was building, and it felt like her very blood was thick with it. She threw her head back against the pillow and arched her back, as though there was something within her that she simply couldn’t contain.

 

“Come on, let go,” she heard him whisper, and she was gone. 

 

She felt like light was radiating from her, a final release of all the buildup. She shook with the intense sensations, and could feel Harry collapse around her, brought over the edge by her involuntary contractions. 

 

Their orgasms left them quickly, leaving them tired, a little sweaty, and panting. 

 

Harry held Ginny close, as though she could vanish. “We’ll make this work, Ginny, I promise,” he said as he kissed her gently.

 

Ginny touched Harry’s jaw, cupping it the way he used to do for her. One corner of her mouth turned up into a half-smile.

 

____

 

The tick-tocking of the clock could have been borrowed from another realm. It didn’t register, and it didn’t matter. They had beaten the clock, and so the tick-tocks continued about their business quietly, not daring to intrude upon their corner of time. 

 

 

 


End file.
